THE PIXAR DETECTIVE

CHAPTER 1 The Great Detective

Written by Jon Negroni. Illustrations by Kayla Savage.

The most brilliant detectives in the world are not the individuals with the biggest brains or even the most advanced gadgets and gizmos, although having a magnifying glass with an electronic interface is always useful for finding your way around a particularly messy crime scene. The best detectives arent necessarily organized, tidy, punctual, or easy to get along with. Even the most successful detectives tend to find themselves relying on more than just being familiar, easygoing crime-fighters. No, the worlds greatest detectives are the most imaginative risk-takers that have ever decided to look through a
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magnifying glass, and we know this for certain because a great detective doesnt decide to live a life of solving mysteries. The greatest detectives have the truly important mysteries thrust upon them, and they probably wouldnt have it any other way. Stevin Parker (the first) was considered to be the worlds greatest detective for many years, mostly due to his impeccable solving of what was famously nicknamed The Dinoco Incident, in which an insurance agent tried to con the government out of millions of dollars in the 1960s with reptile oil he allegedly sourced from a pipeline overseas. Parker foiled his plan by pointing out the mans concoction was nothing but snake oil (almost literally), thus elevating himself to a comfortable status and authority as one of the worlds brightest investigators. But this story isnt about Stevin Parker I, or even Stevin Parker II. No, our tale begins with a person who is much less impressive, if only because he neither has a bowler hat or fancy magnifying glass. He doesnt even have a red corvette to get him to school on time, but that is definitely because hes not old enough to have a drivers license. No, this story is about Stevin Parker III, and its also about how even the greatest detectives can be 15-years-old and failing calculus. Thats right! My calculus exam is today! Stevin awoke as if he had been sleeping with his eyes open, and he might as well have been, judging by the size of the circles under his eyeballs. By the time Stevin had realized that rubbing his eyes frantically wouldnt change the fact that he had just woken up four and a half minutes before the school bus would be carrying on without him, it was already too late to worry about something as troublesome as math. Stevin jumped out of bed and began yet another battle against time, a conflict that was far more mental than it was physical. The real
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math exam was calculating how much time it would take him to rush his clothes on and get to the bus stop on time, factoring in his physical limitations. He knew hed get a tongue lashing from Mary, who prefers his company while waiting at the bus stop, and he had already let her down twice this week. Stevin made his way down the steep staircase conveniently located by his bedroom and made his way into the kitchen to grab a banana and venture out the door unopposed. Unfortunately, his mother demanded more than just a rushed salute from her lanky son. No, no a banana wont do for a good breakfast, said Mrs. Parker with both eyebrows arched, leaning over the kitchen counter. Here, take this yogurt. Im not in the mood to drop off a snack at 10:00am. Its just too embarrassing. If Stevin didnt have a banana hanging out of his mouth with both hands committed to keeping his backpack and book raised, he would have probably responded with a statement addressing the fact that his mother was more embarrassed of him than he was of her, but who could really blame her, he supposed. And then a miracle occurred. Stevin made it before the bus had even turned the corner to reach his stop, a feat not even his mental gymnastics could have predicted just three and a half minutes ago. He also didnt predict being at the bus stop before Mary. Hm...where is she? Stevin wondered why his friend was late, seeing how it was very rare for Mary to cut it this close. The bus arrived, and she was still nowhere to be found. On a different day, Stevin would have been more curious, or even worried, about where his closest friend could be. Today, however, Stevin could only focus on preparing for the dreaded calculus exam that would be looking him in the face in just a few short hours. Looking for a seat proved to be an
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unexpected challenge when Stevin realized that his permanent seat mate was apparently absent. He scanned the seats for a person who would be willing to sit through his company as the bus braved the city traffic. Unlucky for him, Stevins status as an outcast not even worthy of bullying or scorn was a reputation he had proudly kept by staying out of awkward social situations like this one. He was sociable, sure, but he wouldnt dare take a risk of this magnitude--the risk of sitting next to someone who would find his presence unbecoming. Like his father, Stevin tended to think several steps ahead of any given situation, though youd think he would have thought through staying awake too late and forgetting to study the night before. Essentially, his inherited abilities seemed to only come about in small doses, and he was lucky to be awake enough at this point to determine who he should sit next to. Stevin chose the safe and honorable space next to his old friend, Wallaby. Hey Wally, mind if I sit here? Stevin said this fully confident in a positive reaction from the kid who used to idolize him in the fifth grade. Its Wallaby. I dont go by that name anymore. And shouldnt you be sitting with Mary, your girlfriend? Wallaby could tell that Stevin didnt expect this response. Shes not my girl--okay, look I just need a place to sit. Is it open or not? Stevin was trying hard not to beg at this point. An inappropriate amount of time had passed since he had entered the bus and looked for a seat, meaning the bus driver was getting ready to rebuke him from the front, causing a scene Stevin wasnt prepared to endure. Whatever, Wallaby replied with perfect indifference. It was good enough for Stevin, who promptly sat next to someone he
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honestly hadnt called a friend in at least three years. Stevin immediately began to practice his math exercises, struggling to make sure he had at least an inkling of the material ready to be called upon. Wallaby took no notice, as he was deeply engrossed in what appeared to be an Incredibles comic book, though it was one of the old ones. It probably didnt even have Frozone in it. The story must not have been too entertaining because it wasnt long before Wallaby smugly looked over Stevins shoulder and spoke up once again. Youre in calculus? I thought that class was for middle schoolers, said the bored Wallaby with a tone of what appeared to be genuine curiosity rather than criticism. Yes, well maybe in an alternate universe, calculus isnt studied until youre a junior in high school. It would explain why I cant wrap my brain around tangents. Going off of tangents sums you up pretty nicely, actually. Wallaby, youre pretty smart arent you? Why dont you do something useful and help me out with this? Well for one thing, youre using a pen. And? Wallaby took off his glasses, looked at them intently, and put them back on. Apparently, this was his way of displaying disbelief. Stevin ignored Wallabys attempts at subtlety and continued reading over equations he didnt know the first thing about solving. It wasnt until the bus came to a stop that he realized he needed to erase something. ----

THE PIXAR DETECTIVE

What is the Spirit of Adventure? Mr. Azam looked upon his class with boundless confidence that one of his students would speak up, but he was once again met with blank stares and bent palms resting upon wrinkled cheeks. Okay, can anyone review anything that weve learned about Charles F. Muntz? Apparently, Wallaby was finished pretending to not know the answer and spoke up. The Spirit of Adventure was Muntzs airship. He used it to travel the world in search of new animal species, Wallaby said, trying hard not to sound arrogant but failing. Well, not quite Mr. Jones. Muntz wasnt just in search of new species. He sought something much more important. Mr. Azam put both hands on his desk. He glared at his students with solemn eyes. You see, the world traveler had once been shamed for his belief that animals are actually more intelligent than some humans. He spent his life gathering evidence for this theory, which was centered around an exotic bird he claimed to have found in South America. Normally, a class discussion like this would have stolen Marys attention. She was more obsessed with animals than her other favorite past-time--making fun of Mr. Azam with hand-drawn notes shed sneak to Stevin with flawless precision. Stevin still couldnt figure out where his friend was. He called her shortly after exiting his calculus exam, a test he believed himself to have walked out of with at least a passing grade, though his eyes were too glazed over to trust. Mary never responded, which resulted in Stevin going as far as sending her a text message, something his peers would have regarded as old-fashioned. After all, no one ever actually texts anymore. Mr. Parker? Stevin suddenly remembered that teachers were expecting him to participate in classroom events. Sorry, Mr. Azam, I didnt
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understand what you said. This was only partly true; Stevin hadnt even realized that Mr. Azam was speaking to him. I didnt say anything Mr. Parker. Did you really not hear that announcement? Everyone, including Stevin at this point, was staring at the intercom. Stevins mental fixations would have to wait. They want you to go to the office immediately. Go ahead and grab your things. Stevin probably should have said something gracious, such as thank you or yes, sir, but he decided that a simple head nod and deep sigh would do. He was truly his fathers son. Stevin half-stepped out of the classroom doing his best not to look anyone in the eye. Even Wallaby was concerned for his old friend, who seemed almost unhinged, even for 11:30 AM. Making his way to the principals office was a journey full of doomed predictions as to what Stevin was being summoned for. I couldnt have done that poorly on the calculus exam. Stevin allowed himself to consider that possibility at the exact time he realized the exam couldnt have even been graded already. He walked through the door more curious than ever, especially when he saw his mother. Stevin! Mrs. Parker somberly embraced her son. Something has happened to Mary. She was holding back tears. Whats...? Stevin meant to say whats going on? or whats going on with Mary?, but he expected someone to interrupt him. Instead, he just stared at his mother and then at the principal while waiting for someone to speak. His mother approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders as she finally spoke. Shes...shes gone missing. Were actually...We cant explain. Youll just have to see. See what? Stevin was especially focused on the last part of
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what his mother said. Principal Farnsworth, whom Stevin had only spoken with rarely, finally contributed to the cryptic exchange between mother and son. Youre exempt from classes for the rest of the day young man. Farnsworth then picked up a stapled document filled with names. Everythings going to be alright He eyed the document before finishing his sentence. ...Stevin. Its pronounced Stevin. Not Kevin, Mrs. Parker said with a well-deserved authority. This was one of the many moments Stevin was glad to have his mother around. The next twenty four minutes were quite a blur for Stevin. He couldnt say anything, and no one was willing to say anything back to him anyway. His mother claimed that he would just have to be patient--that she couldnt get into it. If it was such a bad situation, Stevin thought, then why was he even being allowed to see it for himself? Stevin stepped out of the car with questions ready to be answered. But what he found was much less assuring. ---

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Marys house was gone. Well, not gone. Her room was all that remained. Everything else--the kitchen, living room, and even her parents room--had vanished. Her room sat on a thin tree surrounded by what appeared to be an endless chasm, though it was really only about ten feet deep. Stevin, and the vast majority of additional onlookers, had never seen anything like it. The scene was crammed with over a hundred peering faces attempting to understand what they were gazing upon. Countless police covered the scene, setting up tape and putting barriers between the troublesome chasm and overly curious citizens. Stevin wasnt curious. Curious didnt begin to cover the type of emotion that had been overwhelming him as he paced around the
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scene, looking for answers to questions he didnt know how to ask. All he really wanted to know, after all, was where his best friend was. Wheres dad? Stevin had to yell this to his mother to drown out the noise. His mother found a police officer who would lead them to one of the sealed off areas adjacent to the neighbors yard. Like the Parker family, Mary lived in the city, but it was one of the few lots left in town that actually had a yard and some space. It looked a lot like the suburban homes that used to occupy the now industrialized neighborhood. The officer led Stevin and his mother to a tent scuttling with activity and vague radio chatter. Everyone seemed to have a reason for keeping their mouths pressed on some kind of walkie talkie. And there he was. His brown hair was just a soft shade lighter than his sons, but the resemblance was undeniable, down to their proportional height and identical mannerisms. Stevin Parker II was scratching his head--mirroring his son perfectly, who was scratching the same spot--as he and his mother approached him. Martha, this is no place for him. He shouldnt be here. Stevins father said this much louder than what would be deemed appropriate, ignoring any kind of eye contact with his son. She ignored her husband. Did they find her parents? Stevin Parker II sighed in defeat. Yes, they were out of town. Theyre actually on their way back right now. Were thinking this...whatever this is...might have been planned for when they wouldnt be around. He looked away and tried to be busy. It was his only resort when faced with anxiety. His son could no longer stay silent. Dad, wheres Mary? He repeated this question fiercely after it had gone unanswered the first time.
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We dont know yet. They found the house like this. There was no explosion...not even smoke. Stevin believed his father. He smelled something, but it certainly wasnt anything burnt. If anything, Stevin could only smell food. He felt guilty about how hungry it made him. Are there any clues in her room? Stevin honestly assumed that his father had already inspected every inch of what the police force were calling the hot zone over their radios. His father paused for a moment. No. We cant. The room is the only thing resting on that decaying tree. If we climb it, the whole scene could collapse, putting us and any potential evidence in danger. Mr. Parker sat his son and wife down so that he could pass out the coffee. Stevin stared at the hot zone for about three minutes before he said what his parents knew he would dare say. Then let me go up there. They both looked at him and met his request with a resounding No, as if it had been rehearsed. Why not? Im not as heavy as the other officers. If you let me go up there with the oracle, I might be able to find something without the tree collapsing! There was intense desperation in Stevins voice at this point. Its too dangerous. Well find another way. Mr. Parker was more calm than he was before. He knew how to handle his son. Mrs. Parker remained silent. Its Mary, Dad. We dont have a lot of time, do we?! Its Mary. Stevin Parker II was a man of incredible honesty, even when his integrity didnt suit the needs of others. No, she doesnt. Then I have to go! Its worth the risk if it gives you a chance to
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find her. What other leads do you even have to go on? Stevins mother broke her silence. Honestly, we were just hoping that you would know something about all of this. It was suddenly clear why his parents were willing to subject their son to this catastrophe, but it was in vain. Not even the son of a great detective had the slightest clue as to what was going on. His father then spoke plainly. Stevin, do you have any idea what happened here? Has Mary ever said something, or done something, that would make some sense out of this? Stevin met the question with a quizzical look. He knew the answer; he just didnt want to admit that it was ultimately useless. No. That was the only response Stevin could muster. --The pain of not knowing the fate of his best friend was preventing Stevin from doing little more than blinking as the long night dragged on. He had been trying to sleep for hours, even attempting to go to bed early so that he could wake up from this oddly long and elaborate nightmare. His thoughts drifted from disbelief and his own theories, of which there werent many, to heart-wrenching memories. Mary had always been a weird girl. Her inability to finish a sentence without drifting off into a daydream was one of the many reasons they had become friends. She had first caught his attention years ago when he noticed she would gaze endlessly at a map of Australia on the first day of geography class. When the teacher attempted to reprimand her for not paying attention, Mary simply smiled and said, I know more about Australia than you. Minutes later, Mary had successfully proven this to the teacher,
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who now had to suffer with the fact that shed been outsmarted by a 12-year-old girl. That was the moment Stevin knew he had to befriend this person (Mary, not the teacher). His first words to her were forgettable to anyone but her. Youre weird. I like you. Mary was beautiful and had large, poignant eyes, but she hated having friends, despite the fact that she was a great one. She hated being subjected to anything remotely uninteresting, and too many people she encountered seemed just fine with that description. But Stevin was different. The two of them could easily lay on a grassy knoll and pretend as if the other didnt exist. Words didnt need to be said, but when they were, the conversations were filled with the strange, freakish, and unexplored topics that would have scared almost anyone else away from a close friendship. Finding his best friends room surrounded by a mysterious sinkhole? That didnt even touch some of the peculiarity the two friends had talked about in passing. Come outside. Stevin blinked, bewildered at the text that had been sent his way. Who would text him at three oclock in the morning? Stevin stepped into his slippers and quietly sneaked out of the loft and onto the sleeping street. Wallaby was sitting on a park bench with his arms crossed, eyes forward. I heard about Mary. Are you okay? Stevin was too cold to look casual in front of his new, old acquaintance. No one knows where she is. Why are you here? The two seemingly unrelated sentences were spoken without much thought. Im worried about her. Have you already forgotten that she was my friend too? Wallaby was still looking forward. Right. Well, no one knows anything yet. Have you seen whats left of her house?
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My mom and I saw it earlier. Wallabys mother and Marys mother had stayed close friends ever since they were in high school. Her parents are staying with us for now. Wallaby slowly stood up and walked behind the bench. He preferred to speak while leaning on something. He looked at Stevin. Did your dad find out anything? No one will tell us a thing. No. The tree is too thin and old for any adult to climb up there. Otherwise, they could scan the room and figure out whats going on. The two friends stared at each other for an extended amount of time, probably trying to figure out if they were thinking the same thing. Lets go. Stevin snuck back into the loft. His dad was still at the police station, but he knew where the extra oracle was. The Parker family had a den serving as a treasure trove of successful cases and mementos dating back to the day Stevin Parker (the first one) decided to become the worlds favorite detective. Initially, Stevins fear of being discovered by his possibly wide-awake mother prevented him from moving quickly, and the disastrously creaky floorboards didnt help matters. Eventually, however, Stevins eagerness could no longer be contained. He began to rummage anxiously through his fathers things, searching for the one item that would allow him to make sense of his dear friends bizarre disappearance. Finally, Stevin reached the bottom drawer of his fathers desk. It normally needed a key, but the mischievous Parker had long since fashioned a bobby pin to pick the lock--this wasnt the first time he had raided the treasure trove. The drawer snapped open, revealing a long, gray magnifying glass secured on an embossed vinyl. But this wasnt a normal glass--this was his fathers first oracle. Though dated, the nifty device could analyze
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almost anything, which is all Stevin really needed. Pressed for time, Stevin reorganized the disordered desk and prepared to make his escape, grabbing his grandfathers bowler hat from the stand on his way out. He did this without even contemplating it. Stevin half-stumbled his way outside, supplies in tow. Whats with the hat? Wallaby had noticed a hat hanging from his friends fingertips. Stevin slipped the oracle into his back pocket and slid the bowler hat on top of his welcoming scalp. Every great detective needs a hat. * Disclaimer: this work is noncommercial and intended only for entertainment. It is not lawful to sell the above work, which is based on established properties copyrighted by Disney Pixar.

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